The Coffee Shop
by IIangelofmusicII
Summary: Rouge is the only one who sees him like this. Quiet. Calm. Almost somber. He was never like this anywhere else. It was only at the coffee shop. Roger is the only one who sees her like this. Bright. Tender. She was never like this anywhere else. It was only at the coffee shop. AU set in modern day U.S.A. RougeXRoger. T for swearing and some mature themes.
1. Observations

She saw him there every morning. Without fail. She could practically set her watch to that guy. As soon as the clock hit 8:11, bam! He walked right through the front door. His longish black hair whipped in the wind, and was sometimes even stuffed under a black beanie with a skull logo on it. A long, dark red coat with gold buckles adorned his muscular form, and a collarless white button up seemed to be his shirt of choice. When it was rainy season, his considerate feet would stomp the thick mud off his black boots right before he walked in, and he would stroll over to his favourite spot. Right in front of her bar. His stool was worn and the leather was soft. When he sat down, the old metal would creek and he would adjust himself accordingly. She didn't even need to ask him his order; she just knew. Plain, black, coffee. No sugar, milk, or cream. She'd set it down in front of him, and he'd reply with a 'Thanks' before taking a small, tentative sip.

She knew him from school. Roger, they called him. The loud mouthed trouble maker who didn't know when to shut up. The 'king' of the ruffians, and the most prideful in the bunch. A child who had never grown up. But from his demeanour and posture in the coffee shop; with his slouched shoulders and tense hands; you'd never guess it was the same guy.

She liked to watch him as he drank his coffee. Not in a creepy, stalkerish way, but a glance every now and then. Over the 6 months he'd been coming here, she had noticed a few of his peculiar habits. He held his mug with one hand, as if he were swigging down beer. Yet his movements were not drunken at all. They were controlled, almost robotic. He liked to shake sugar packets, pinching the top and swinging the pouch back and forth to the beat of the smooth jazz that always played in the shop. It was comforting to hear. Like a baby's rattle, it was a fascinating and mesmerizing sound. Her favourite habit of his though, was when he would toss a stray coffee bean back and forth from hand to hand. It was like seeing his coffee life and his school life collide. His childish nature allowed him to play with the bean, while his studious nature insisted on him tossing the bean with a precise and calculated throw, sometimes even putting a spin on the object, like it was a minuscule football. It was interesting to watch, like a cat, playing with it's prey before chowing down. And that's exactly what he did. When he was about to leave the shop, he would toss the bean into the air, and catch it perfectly in his mouth, crushing it between his teeth. And with that, he would stroll out the door, leaving only the sound of the quaint little bell that hung above the doorway.

oooooooooo

She sighed as she pushed open the door to the employee's lounge. If you could call it that. A dusty old water dispenser was sat in the corner of the room, unused for nearly one and a half years now. A arm chair with hideous green upholstery was stuffed in the other corner. A small countertop held a sink, and some space just big enough to fit 2 whole mugs. It was rather depressing. She untied her apron and hung it on the hook that rested between the sink and the door. She retrieved her bags from the arm chair and headed upstairs to see Mr. Taka before she left. Taka was sitting on a cushion on the floor, sipping from a small tea cup. His room was simple. In it, there was nothing but the small wooden table and a futon bed. She knocked on the door frame. "I'll be going now sir. Is there anything else you need?" she asked "No, not that I can think of." Taka replied. "Just lock the door behind you, Rouge.". She nodded and left him to his tea.

oooooooooo

AN: Abrupt ending, I'm aware. This fic, I have realized, is going to require quite a large amount of research on the history before OP's main storyline. Most likely, it'll be something I do on the side. So if you think this is going to replace Secret Santa (of which I desperately need a better name for), do not fret. But if you enjoyed the pitch of the story, perhaps a review might speed up the rate of my fact-finding? In any cade, thank you for stopping by.


	2. More Observing

Roger couldn't help himself. He couldn't always be the rough an' tough guy the gang expected him to be. He needed to relax. And Taka's was the perfect place to do it. He loved that little wooden shack. He liked to think that he was their best customer (and sole source of revenue). The place was was pretty much deserted most of the time. There was absolutely no one to ruin his reputation. The only other person there was that Rouge girl. He didn't have to worry about her. She was in his grade, but he hadn't even noticed her until he discovered Taka's. The studious girl always had her nose in the books, only looking up from her well-worn novels to correct her homework from the black board. She was the sole employee, being the owner. Her outfit usually consisted of a large sweatshirt, skinny jeans, her wide glasses, and a flower barrette in her hair. Plain and simple. He never really noticed these things about her before coming to Taka's. He thought about the charming little barrette, and how it seemed so detailed and dainty. Very much unlike the loud and noisy bandanas he saw at school. There was something different about her, but he just couldn't pin-point it.

When he had first discovered Taka's, he thought it would last for a few days; just a place to get away. But days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. He had even developed a schedule. He would catch Bus 98 down to the shop at 7:55, enter the shop at 8:11, leave at 8:45, and transfer to Bus 67 to get to school by 9:00. He worked like clock work. It was weird. He hated to plan things out beforehand. But his time here felt special. Like he needed to enjoy every last minute.

oooooooooo

On this particular day, he had entered the shop as usual, and headed to his favourite spot, a spinny chair right in front of the wooden countertop, otherwise known as 'the bar'. He loved the smooth oak surface, and the way the varnish felt under his rough hands. He had practically memorized every groove and crack in the wood, and he was working on creating a new mark of his own, slowly picking away at the wood when Rouge wasn't looking. The graffiti read 'GDR'. Well, it would anyways, but so far he had only completed the curve of the 'G'. He wondered how much longer it would take to finally carve out his entire name. He had only been coming here for around 6 months, and graduation would be coming in 3. He wondered if he would ever come back to Taka's after that.

He was watching how Rouge make his coffee. He had bought the exact same machine, but somehow, it never turned out like hers. He didn't dare ask her how she did it, for fear of intruding on her world in which she looked at with glazed eyes. Eyes that shone, but more like mirrors than rivers. 'A daydreamer' Roger thought, recognizing the eyes that his friends' so often told him were his own. 'What is she thinking about?' he wondered, as he watched her mess with the machine. He noticed that as she worked, she would constantly have to tuck her long hair behind her ears. 'I wonder why she doesn't just tie it up?' Roger thought to himself. He started to toss a coffee bean he found on the counter back and forth between his hands as he speculated the reasoning behind her leaving her hair down. 'Surely it must get in the way?' he thought, as he imagined her going about a usual day with that long, strawberry blonde hair in her face. He was snapped out of his daydream when she set down his mug in front of him with a thud. "Thanks" was his response, as he used both hands to taste the steaming brew.

The rich, smooth flavours danced on his tongue. It was so, so bitter. But it was laced with a certain… sweetness. Is that what she used? Sugar? Usually he hated sugar, but this seemed to contrast so well with the darkness of the coffee. He dropped one hand to the counter, and held his mug by the handle, taking care not to spill a single drop of the beverage. He couldn't get over the flavour. The sweetness was so tantalizing. It was fleeting, appearing for a mere second before disappearing back into the bitterness, and it left him wanting more.

He had finished his coffee and was tossing his bean again, attempting to know make it spin head over heel. He glanced at the ancient clock that hung above the doorway and noticed it was almost 8:45. He left a tip weighted under his mug, and threw his coat back on before strolling towards the door. Just as he was standing at the worn 'Welcome!' mat, he tossed the bean into the air before letting it land in his mouth and crunching down on it. As he exited the shop, he chewed a while on the bean before thinking to himself 'Bourbon'.


	3. Bully

Rouge finally arrived at school, 5 minutes before the bell. That was the cost of working at Taka's. She was always in such a rush in the morning. She had once even gone the whole day with her necklace on backwards, not even noticing till she got back home and glanced in the mirror. She ran to her locker at the end of the east wing, exactly in the opposite direction of most her classes. It was a pain to go back and forth all the time, but administration wouldn't allow any complaints. Not that shy, timid, Rouger would ever be taken seriously anyways. She fumbled with her rusty lock, the one she had had sine freshman year. Late in 11th grade, the lock had jammed and was never the same since. She would constantly have to tug on it multiple times before it opened. But this time, even as her fingers spun through the combo over and over again, it didn't open. She groaned in frustration as the bell rung, indicating that she was now late for class. She decided to store her things in the gym locker room for the time being as she rushed to French.

oooooooooo

She arrived, breathless, and walked to her seat all while feeling 's judging eyes on her. Rouge loved this teacher, and hated disappointing her. Sure she was strict, but she had a sweet side too. Little did anyone else know, but fostered kittens and had sent love notes to her military husband until he was home. How Rouge knew this? She had spent many an hour with the teacher, discussing her background. Rouge was French, and had many stories to tell about old France. The war, the love, and the history was all so fascinating. Well, to Rouge anyways. Anyone else would find it pathetic and bizarre. Her classmates already thought she was weird, and she didn't want them to have anymore reason to then they already had. She dipped her head low and hovered her pencil above her black and white notepad. She was constantly trying to think of new coffee flavours to serve at the shop. Of course, Roger was pretty much their only customer, and since he only liked his coffee black, so she had to do it subtly. Not that she got any feedback from him anyways. Still, it was fun to brainstorm some new ideas. Often her flavours were based on people. Although she wasn't really social, she found the personalities of people to be so interesting. For example, today, as on every Tuesday, she served Roger . The sweet undertones lay beneath the bitter darkness of the coffee, and surfaced suddenly before sinking back into the dark. Just as was tough until she opened up to you, but then hid back under her hard exterior. She looked up from her note pad and saw that had written the answers to the homework on the blackboard. She got her binder out and quickly jotted down some checkmarks before returning to her pad. As the other students took notes, she started thinking about Roger's flavour. Would he be sweet? Bitter? Spicy? She chewed on the thought for a while, thinking of his double personality, until finally deciding she didn't know him well enough to really decide. She was jolted out of her musings by calling her to the board for a demonstration. She deposited her note book in her bag and manoeuvred her way to the front of the room, hearing the snickers and taunts of her classmates behind her.

"Rouge," began , "Conjuger la verbe."

'Rouge,' she translated in her head, "Conjugate the verb."

"On y va.", said her teacher. "Je?"

"Suis." Rouge responded.

"Elle?"

"Est."

OOOOO

This went on for several minutes until her teacher stopped her and said to the class. "Thank you, Rouge. I wish all my students studied as hard as you." she glared pointedly to a pale faced boy with wavy light pink hair and a light grey sweatshirt. The boy rolled his eyes and slumped in his chair, embarrassed. The bell rung, and dismissed the class. As Rouge got up, she heard a girl whisper "Teacher's pet…" to her as she walked by. She reddened, and exited the classroom in a hurry.

She had just got to the end of the hall when she was stopped by the boy from French class. She was eye level with the strings of his sweatshirt, and had to crane her neck to look up at his towering form. "You little freak.", he sneered. "You think you're so special, huh? You think you're all that? You're just a little freak!" She tried to push past him, but she tripped and her bag went flying as she sprawled onto the ground. She picked herself up, and started to gather her things when she noticed him through the corner of her eye flipping through her notebook. "I bet you have to cheat to get through all your classes." he said, nonchalantly turning the pages, studying it's contents. "Is this your cheat sheet?" he asked, tearing one of the pages out of her notes. "Stop that!" yelled Rouge, lunging for the notepad. He side-stepped, and started reading out loud. "1 tsp of.. what the hell is this?" He asked, pointing at her illustration of a pile of sugar. "You making drugs or something? You a pothead?" he taunted her. Rouge was now crying out of frustration, jumping for the notebook the boy held raised over his head. Suddenly, someone grabbed the boy and threw him aside. "Enough, Squard." said the stranger "Give her the book." "But Roger—" "Enough!" yelled Roger, glaring at him. "Give her back her freaking notebook!". Shiki gave Rouge one last sneer before throwing the book at her. She caught it, and stood up, brushing herself off.

The boy she now knew as Squard strolled down the hall, trying to mend his wounded pride. Roger glanced at her, and she realized he was staring at her now messy hair. She self-consciously raised her fingers to her head to try and fix it, but couldn't find her barrette. She saw Roger take a step towards her, and she tensed. He touched the hair at the back of her neck, before grasping something and using both hands to untangle it from her long blonde locks. Still a bit weirded out, Rouge took one step back as he brought his hands back into her view, his right hand cupping her barrette. He used his left hand to brush her hair behind her ear, and clipped her hair back. The gesture was so tender and familiar, that instantly she felt at ease. "We need to get you to the nurse's office." He said. "You're hurt." he pointed to her swelling calf. "It's fine…" she muttered, still a little embarrassed by the whole incident. "Don't look like it." he replied, inspecting the darkening area. He took her hand and dragged her behind him, and she had no choice but to follow. "Wh-Why are you doing all this?" she asked, stumbling along behind him. He looked at her, an unreadable expression on his face, and said "Because I don't want to go to class.". She felt a little disheartened at his words, but she didn't know why. "By the way," he began, "Bourbon?". She skid to a halt, not believing her ears. "What did you say?" she asked tentatively, almost positive he meant something else. "Today you made right? You make her almost every Tuesday."


	4. Machiavellianism

"Back again, ?" asked the office secretary.

"Not for what you would think, Gladys," replied Roger, smiling at her. He reached over the desk and snatched 2 peppermint candies from her plate. He popped one in his mouth, and offered the other one to Rouge. She looked uneasy at first, but Gladys gave her a small nod so she plucked the mint out of his open palm, and stuck it in her mouth. Gladys laughed at Roger's antics, and gestured towards the two green chairs in the office. They each took a seat, and Gladys walked up to them.

"So, what are you and your girlfriend here for today?" the secretary inquired, pushing up her glasses. Rouge reddened instantly, but Roger just smiled.

"Rouge here, _my classmate_," he emphasized, "ran into a bit of trouble. Would Nurse Crocus be here by any chance?"

"You're in luck, he just got here. You know where to go."

Roger took the still blushing Rouge's hand, and walked with her to the nurse's office. They walked in silence, and Roger couldn't help but feel something was either really wrong, or really, really right. They finally reached the medical room, and Roger pushed open the door.

"Croc?" he called, pulling Rouge in. The door closed behind them, and Roger let go of Rouge's hand. A small man, whose hair resembled that of a flower appeared from another corridor.

"Ah Roger! Back again I see," the man said, stepping towards the two with small, quick steps. "And who might this be?" he asked, gesturing to Rouge.

"This is Rouge," said Roger, "my classmate. She hit her shin by accident, and it looks kinda bad. You think you can take care of her?"

"Well, I'll see," replied the nurse, "sit right here, Rouge," he said, pointing at a small elevated mattress. Rouge obliged, and took a seat. Crocus pulled up a chair, and held up her leg.

"It's bruised pretty badly, but it'll be better soon. You might feel a bit sore for a few days.

"It's ok…" Rouge muttered, "I'm used to it."

Both Roger and Crocus looked at her for a second.

"I-I'm really…Clumsy!" she stammered, franticly. Crocus nodded his head, but Roger didn't seem convinced. Rouge looked downwards, and some of her hair fell down, covering her face. Crocus finished his examination, and declared she was otherwise 'OK'.

"Would you like some ice?" he asked, already heading to the freezer, "By the way, that wasn't a question," he continued, "I'd like you to stay here until lunch, resting. You're not to move until then. Doctor's orders."

"You're a nurse," Rouge said as-a-matter-of-factly, and then, as if she'd realized she was being rude, she followed it up with, "Sorry, it's just, I'm going to miss a lot of my classes, and I can't afford to—"

"I'll take notes for you," Roger offered, "we have the same classes first period anyways."

"There you go!" said Crocus triumphantly, "Now, regardless of my position," he said, looking at Rouge with a twinkle in his eye, "I'd really like you to rest. If you push yourself, that thing's only going to get worse." Rouge nodded, and swung her leg up to a laying position. She rested her hands on her stomach, and Roger couldn't help but notice how distressed she seemed.

"Hey," he began, "don't worry, I'll get you some good notes. You just take it easy, OK?"

Rouge nodded, and bit her lip. Roger walked out the door, but not before taking another glance back at Rouge.

OOOOO

"Where were you?" whispered Rayleigh. Roger said nothing, and took out a pad and pen.

"Dude, where were you?" Rayleigh pushed, "Squard came in here saying something about a girl."

"Look, I need to take notes," said Roger, looking Rayleigh in the eye. "Can we talk about this after?"

Roger turned back to his notes while Rayleigh stared at him, stunned. Roger was never so studious. What had inspired this change in the great 'Pirate King'? Roger looked up at the board, and realised he had no clue what the teacher was even talking about. What did 'Machiavellianism' even mean? Hestarted freaking out, and turned towards Rayleigh, looking for an answer. Roger caught his eye, and Rayleigh begrudgingly pushed his sheet towards his captain. Roger grinned at him, and took to copying everything down. 'Machiavellianism- The political doctrine of Machiavelli, which denies the relevance of morality in political affairs, and holds that craft and deceit are justified in pursuing and maintaining political power' Roger printed, thinking of it's meaning. Simply stated, it meant the belief that it was ok to be nasty if it you could get more powerful politically. Roger snarled. Whoever this Machia-bastard was, he was crazy and heartless. Even worse were the idiots who supported him. Justice. It was such a vague word, different in everyone's eyes. In Roger's, it meant that everyone got what they needed. Not necessarily equality, because everyone has different needs. But whatever anyone was deserving of. That seemed right in Roger's mind. Unfortunately, the world was filled with Machia-bastards who believed in doing whatever they wanted for power.

Roger shook himself away from his thoughts, and hunkered down. Rouge was counting on him. He had gotten a bit behind during his daydreaming session, but caught up quickly thanks to Rayleigh. He thought about how he was going to give Rouge these notes anyways. Taka's? He didn't know if she was there during lunch. Probably. He never saw her anywhere else around town. He brushed some eraser bits off his paper, and against his will, he started daydreaming again. Unfortunately, saw him drifting away and called him out.

" !" He shouted, his voice jolting Roger back to reality. "Do politics not interest you enough?"

"No sir!" Roger replied, bolting up straight in his chair. "I mean yes sir! I mean- Argh!" Roger hated these kinds of trick questions. Unfortunately, seemed to be rather fond of them. smiled cruelly at Roger.

"Detention, ," he said, and Roger could've sworn that there was an evil glint in his eye.

OOO

"What's gotten into you, Gol?" said Rayleigh, as soon as they'd left Politics.

"Look man," said Roger, "I need to ask you a for favor."

"Tell me what's going on, and I just might give it to you," replied Rayleigh, crossing his arms.

"Ok look," Roger began, "there's this girl, Rouge, and I said I'd take notes for her. She's with Croc, Squard messed with her a bit. I was supposed to give her the notes after school, but now I gotta hang with Nolas. You mind doing it for me?"

Rayleigh sighed. Roger was always taking on things he couldn't handle. But afterall, that's why Rayleigh was there. To rein him in. Roger offered Rayleigh the papers, and Rayleigh took them reluctantly.

"Thanks Silvers," said Roger, grinning.


	5. Absence

Hi everyone.

You may or may not have noticed the complete halt of updates to all my stories in the last 3 months. It felt really selfish to just let you all hang, so I wanted to let you know that I'm formally going on a hiatus.

Reason being that HBOP just completely drained me. I knew it was going to be a heavy workload, but every time I fell behind slightly I found myself struggling and cutting corners to catch up, which was not how I wanted to do that fic at all. It made me feel stressed, and I came to the realization that my pastimes shouldn't be giving me this much anxiety.

I feel bad for those of you who have been supporting me for the last year and some, but I am so much happier now. Thank you for understanding.

~Angel


End file.
